


Watermarks

by kerberys



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Abuse, Cheating, Domestic Violence, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I guess it's explicit I actually can't judge myself lol, M/M, concept of versatility is real and present, cryptid metaphors and even more cryptid trains of thought, kerberys crawls out of hole and posts fanfiction again, re-edited as in partially rewritten, re-edited oneshot from good old livejournal days, this used to have 3751 words but now it's almost 5000 don't ask me what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:39:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerberys/pseuds/kerberys
Summary: At times Ruki poetically thought that Aoi was like a blossom and the sources of his agony were like a field bindweed, the climbing and creeping weed plant, also known as possession wine. Convulvus arvensis, creeping herbaceous perennial plant extremely difficult to get rid of.





	Watermarks

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally inspired by Wild at Heart by Birds of Tokyo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OcpSOUYjlE when I started writing this back in 2013. I still don't actually know what brought me to write something like this, but years later I ended up going through something similar myself which in sense prevented me from reworking and republishing this to AO3 until now. However working on Watermarks again turned out to be surprisingly therapeutic. Hours later and after two beers within past couple of hours of editing, I found myself with 1000+ words added to the original fiction and perhaps more realistic take on couple of things than originally, who knows. Introspective to extent and Ruki's PoV. Hope you enjoy.

Aoi wasn't a person to talk about his emotions at all, despite being emotional by nature. He either had no words or there were too many things suffocating him, tying his tongue and leaving the man alone with a silent act. Not that Ruki would normally even ask what or how he was feeling, it was Aoi’s own business and Ruki didn’t want to be nosy. Besides, the man's eyes tended to silently tell everything and Ruki was the master of reading into every little detail hidden between the lines he was offered. Nonetheless he never asked about the things he saw in Aoi’s eyes. Sometimes he would open his mouth though as if he was about to say something, but always ended up just clearing his throat, uneasily looking elsewhere. Surely Ruki had managed to blurt out the burning question couple of times, finding himself regretting those words straight away. There was no proper answer nor point of asking anyway. Then again - from time to time - words were overrated. The way how Aoi barely noticeably bit his lip and scraped his left arm here and there was enough to tell Ruki what was already evident by now; Aoi felt defenseless.

But that wasn’t the main point of Ruki’s thoughts. The main point in fact, was that Aoi was there, once again standing behind the door of Ruki’s apartment. He was probably gazing down at the door lock, waiting for it to turn over and let out a small clicking noise. It didn’t need any mathematical theories for Ruki to know it was definitely Aoi knocking on his door. Even when Ruki was still sitting on his couch, nose buried in a magazine and not even close to door, he knew it was Aoi and not for example Reita or Kai. Ruki usually listened to the certain rhythm of knocking for a moment, slowly dousing his smoke before walking to the door and opening it.

And the view was always the same.

Whenever Ruki opened the door and let Aoi step inside, he didn't need to but just look into the man’s eyes to see what was wrong this time. Though, by now he already knew and there was no need to look at the agony in Aoi’s eyes time after time, Saturday morning after another. Yet he sometimes happened to gaze at that direction, only to see how the misery in those orbits was growing like a field bindweed choking out blossoms and forbs. At times Ruki poetically thought that Aoi was like a blossom and the sources of his agony were like a field bindweed, the climbing and creeping weed plant, also known as possession wine. Convulvus arvensis, creeping herbaceous perennial plant extremely difficult to get rid of. A field bindweed would keep choking out other plants until they would be drained dry and simply decay away.

Aoi’s suffering was like a seed of the said bindweed, growing faster day by day, especially on Sundays and Wednesdays after long rehearsals. And sometimes Ruki would wonder, how there wasn't any sharp leaves coming out of the man’s orbits or mouth already. Perhaps the plant was cunningly intertwined around his guts, slowly killing him from inside until Aoi would be too tired to get up anymore.

And since Ruki knew all the grounds and premises, why would he try to speak up, only to see the man holding back tears and biting his bottom lip looking clearly nervous and uncomfortable? That would result in only an awkward, even ominous silence and it would be too much of a pain for Ruki to decide, what would be an appropriate step out of the damned atmosphere. It was easier not to talk nor even think about reasons and grounds. Ruki knew them all over and he knew why Aoi kept coming back.  
Therefore it was beyond pointless to offer a cup of tea and play therapist session, sat at kitchen table. Particularly since there was never much time at hand to begin with.

So when Aoi once again took the conclusive step over the threshold between the entry and platform - Ruki, skipping the soft talk and tea cups and frankly not giving a fuck anymore, pulled the man into a straightforward kiss.

Things had been like this for almost a year now and after hearing the certain way of knocking for the third time, Ruki had started expecting and sort of waiting for Aoi to show up behind his door. Ever since that time, he had quitted trying to talk about things. Aoi didn’t need his words, he needed to know Ruki was there for Aoi, ready to feel Aoi’s pain and carry half of it's weight through the diminutive time they had together. And just like that, Ruki was always there, always opening his door and waiting for Aoi to step over the threshold. And whenever the door behind them closed, Ruki took all things that were collapsing Aoi, he took everything he could, because that was his way to comfort the man and that was what Aoi was there for, what he wanted.

That was what Ruki wanted.

So whenever Aoi stepped over the threshold, Ruki gripped the man’s shirt and digging his nails into the fabric, he kissed the older man. And Aoi responded to every kiss Ruki gave, leaning into every touch not saying a word when he was pushed forward until his back collided with the living room wall and Ruki took over the situation. Because that was what they both wanted, it was the nature of their arrangement.

Over time though, Ruki had discovered a strange feeling that would leave him bugged and contemplating. He couldn't remember when exactly, but one day he had realised it was no longer that easy to just turn around and start making coffee when Aoi put his coat on and opened the door leaving Ruki alone in the kitchen. First it had been quite a simple routine, Ruki would wake up and start making his morning coffee, Aoi would open and close the door behind him as Ruki sipped on his coffee, looking at the fleeting clouds in the metropolitan sky through the window.

Now it was different. Whenever Aoi turned around and put his coat on, Ruki looked at the back of the broken man, feeling his stomach twitch uncomfortably. When the door closed and the apartment became tacit again, he cursed internally, leaning into the door frame. Fizzing of the coffee maker was the only remaining sound as Ruki looked through the window, not at the cloud, but at the man walking down the street, hands buried in his pockets and head turned down. His coffee was always too strong because Ruki couldn’t concentrate on counting anymore, eyes silently focused on Aoi’s shaking hand on the door handle. When the door closed, Ruki stood at the window until he couldn’t recognise the man anymore. By then the coffee mug in his hands was already cold, but Ruki hardly cared as he downed the coffee too strong and missed the warmth of the man walking down the street.

Ruki wasn’t sure when things had changed. He wasn’t even sure how they had started to be fair. Two years ago Ruki had been the one to watch happiness around him as Reita and Kai moved in together and Uruha had taken Aoi to a restaurant on their second year anniversary. Ruki had been happy for his friends, of course. Nodding and smiling while occasionally wondering where was the much appraised shared happiness for him before deciding to simply concentrate on work instead of mourning over what didn't exist.

That was time when Aoi had still been his own rather lively personality, laughing at his own jokes and spouting lopsided grin at commentary by others before nodding or shaking his head. Ruki had always silently watched the guitarist on stage, at the studio, when expressing gratitude for the day's work well done. He had seen Uruha opening an umbrella above Aoi’s head so the man wouldn’t get soaked. Aoi had smiled and Ruki had opened his own umbrella, walking back home alone, unable to understand the kind of a choking feeling in his chest.

About a year and maybe half ago, Aoi had appeared early at the studio and found Ruki drinking his morning coffee while working. They had been the only ones present there at that time: Aoi had come alone, without Uruha. That had been odd in Ruki's books.

Aoi had worn a scarf, strange for the like of weather and attempted to cover his arms with long sleeved shirt. Ruki - of course – had asked where the man had left his boyfriend, laughed a bit and stopped when Aoi’s guitar let out a sad, wheezy voice. For a while there had been only a silence where even dead would grow uneasy, until Ruki had stood up and walked to Aoi, carefully tucking up one sleeve. He had seen the bruises through the fabric against the light and how the man kept looking away even before, it wasn't anything new, but something in that particular morning had made everything seem as though more fragile. Not knowing what to say, Ruki had wrapped his arms around his bandmate in a gentle manner, unable to decided whether it was appropriate or not.

Ruki still wasn’t sure how he had ended up kissing Aoi in the moments afterwards.

As one would expect, he had then apologised, muttered ‘I’m sorry’ couple more times and turned on his heels walking out of the door. Ruki had picked up the pace, step by step until nearly running away like an embarrassed teenager after his first kiss. Except Ruki was well in his twenties and way past awkward teen years. A bit of strange sight of grown man storming through the streets of Tokyo without direction, maybe, but in that fleeting moment, that had been the only solution he came up with.

One month after that incident, Aoi had, bizarrely enough, appeared behind Ruki’s door for the first time. Back then Ruki had offered that cup of tea, they sat at the table and Ruki had tried to initiate by asking. The only answer he ever got antedated by beyond awkward silence was Aoi biting the inner side of his bottom lip and barely audible plea - “try that again.”  
And Ruki had blinked twice before moving his hand behind Aoi's head to pull him into a kiss, woken up in the morning, made his coffee and sat at kitchen table rubbing his temples as the door to his apartment closed after Aoi.

Every time Aoi came back with new bruises and every time Ruki carefully kissed every single sore spot he happened to find. Yet Aoi was wearing more and more of those contusions and time after time it took longer to go over each spot. Violet and yellow marks covered Aoi’s body masking his figure to appear as some sort of an incomplete puzzle game, but the man kept wearing them. Well not like he could just be rid of them, sure the previous ones would heal and fade into shades of flax and moss, only to be greeted by new ones of byzantine, even crimson at times. No one talked about it, it was a topic of taboo within the band by now. Reita had once grabbed Uruha from shirt, but Aoi had darted in between, preventing the bassist from committing to whatever he had been about to. “It's not your business.” he had said and everyone returned back to work.

Bruises cast across Aoi’s skin and tattooed onto the epicardium of Ruki’s heart were like watermarks put onto artworks, transparent letterings signaling ownership. Unnoticeable watermarks they both tried to hide and cover the best they could. Aoi by wearing long sleeves and various excuses, Ruki by concentrating on his work and smashing his knuckles weakly against the wall before leaving to work.

At this point, Ruki knew each one of Aoi’s watermarks. Aoi only part of Ruki’s and if Ruki was to decide, he would never know all of them since they all were about Aoi and only Aoi.

And Aoi wasn’t with Ruki. They weren’t a couple like Uruha and Aoi were and somehow that made Ruki gnaw on his bottom lip, smoke over half a pack of cigarettes in a day despite always thinking about quitting and sit at the balcony for hours. Yet he was the one comforting Aoi whenever the man knocked on his door, eyes red and swollen. Ruki never commented on the tears, knowing it was hard enough for Aoi to even show them in the first place – they were both grown men in Japanese society – without dull remarks.

Ruki was the one kissing Aoi’s bruises and he was the one who held the man tightly through out the nights they had together. Ruki was the one to drink that cold and bitter coffee every Sunday morning, yearning to launch onto Aoi's arm before the man was gone. He was the one who did his best to nurse every knackered part of the man watermarked by another. But Aoi was like an old mechanical toy about to break down in pieces. Once you got one part fixed, there was already a new broken component. Ruki did truly try his best.

He never refused to open his door for Aoi.

Lately Aoi had been coming over more often, once or even twice a week and not just Saturdays. A year and half ago it had been just once in month or every two weeks. Ruki wasn’t a fool, he saw what was happening before his very eyes, but he couldn’t spill even one word out. The amount of Aoi’s watermarks was growing faster than the bindweed tied to the man's guts and sometimes Aoi couldn’t even walk properly, it was no longer a surprise to see him quite desperately hobbling around, but Ruki didn’t say a word. He just let the man hobble into the apartment before gently pulling him into a kiss as they both stumbled their way to Ruki’s bedroom for umpteenth time.

He wasn’t sure why, but somehow seeing the man at his door felt different this time.

Aoi didn't lift up his gaze from the floor. No word was spoken, no face shown, but Ruki knew he was biting his bottom lip and could see a tear drop off on the floor. Except that it wasn’t actually a tear or then Aoi had turned into a vampire behind Ruki's back.  
“You’re bleeding...” Ruki noted quietly, reaching to ghost his fingertips over the wound on Aoi’s brow. The man said nothing. Ruki sighed, taking Aoi's hand and guiding him into the entry.  
“We need to disinfect that wound, you know. Sit down.” Ruki muttered, groping fingers through his own undone hair. He got a disinfectant from the bathroom and returned back to the kitchen where Aoi was just standing. Another sigh was let out.  
“I said, sit down. Please Yuu, we need to take care of that wound.” Ruki repeated. It was odd. Usually Aoi didn’t have any kind of cuts, just bruises. This was the first time Ruki saw him with an open wound and thin bloodline streaming down along the man’s cheek.  
“You don’t have to.” Aoi muttered, finally sitting down at the table. Ruki shook his head and carefully cleaned the wound, wiping the blood away with a piece of swab. Aoi hissed abruptly and gritted his teeth. What could have possible given him a cut as deep as this? Ruki tried to picture scenarios within his head, coming up with few and sensing chills down along his spine. This was getting, no, it was already way beyond control.  
“You almost got your eye pierced, Yuu”, he sighed, accidentally looking into the man’s eyes. Seeing how dim Aoi’s already dark eyes were made Ruki wince internally. It hurt to see how broken the man was by now, covered by countless amount of iridescent watermarks, the field bindweed peeking from the corners of those dark pools of eyes.

Ruki band-aided the wound as Aoi looked up at the shorter man. His lips were slightly parted, black hair covering part of the almost deadpan face and only his eyes were whispering, secretly and without an audible sound letting Ruki in on how tired he really was. And Ruki heard every repressed whisper, brushing a lock of black hair behind Aoi’s ear. Soon he was kissing the man gently, giving into the orders of the whispering eyes and his own heart.

As usual, Aoi responded to a kiss on an instant, turning the contact into an intensive fight of lips and tongues. Ruki complied gladly. He didn’t want to hurt Aoi, but he wasn't holding back either, knowing Aoi wasn't there just for the fleeting tenderness between them. And as much as Ruki would have liked to shower the man in gentle gestures of love, he knew it wasn't the same with Aoi.

Not even one of the kisses or touches Ruki gave to Aoi were forcing or violent. Every time he kissed the man deeply, his thoughts were tender and soft, his touches coated by those thoughts. He never left even one watermark of his own on Aoi’s skin.

Ruki often felt as though he was some kind of herbicide, regularly used for good purposes, but the persistent bindweed kept recurring, it's roots strong and long and Ruki wasn’t the most powerful weed killer available. He wasn’t capable of demolishing the main-root that kept those bindweeds inside Aoi growing and reappearing again, he could only provide the momentary relief. Still, Ruki thought he was doing at least his best as Aoi’s herbicide.

They found their way to Ruki's bedroom, lips incessantly connected until Aoi fell on his back in the bed and Ruki walked to the window, closing the black curtains and turning off the lights by Aoi's request long ago. He looked at the man who was now motioning him to come closer and Ruki did. Crawling on top of Aoi and bending down to kiss the man who responded breathing quavering moans into the kisses, making Ruki's knees wobble weakly. He unbuttoned Aoi’s shirt carefully, letting fingertips cautiously run over the man’s bruised and sore skin. And once again Ruki went over each spot, giving light, gentle smooches here and there as Aoi's retained his eyes shut, shivering under Ruki. He was always careful and even when he felt heated, lusting for the older man, he took his time slowly and gently undressing him, making sure he didn’t accidentally weigh down on any of Aoi’s newest watermarks. Whenever Aoi hissed in pain, Ruki returned kissing the man. Somehow it always worked, as if Ruki was both an unknown kind of morphine and herbicide. A tranquilliser, even.

As soon as Ruki finished undressing the man half away, about to bare his own torso, Aoi reached his hand up and started unbuttoning Ruki’s plaid shirt. Watching skinny fingers and shaking hands slowly to stop by each button of the shirt, exposing more and more of his skin, Ruki wondered, what Aoi was thinking while undressing him little by little. How Aoi felt when touching and kissing Ruki. What brought Aoi to his doorstep evening after another. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes, leaving him with no answer to all those questions and for some reason Ruki really wanted to know. Perhaps - although not necessarily willing to admit to it - he was really just entertaining the hope that he would actually be something more than only that dose of morphine well needed or herbicide to be sprayed over the weeds strangling Aoi's insides.

Ruki’s long buried feelings and desires were dredged, picked up on the table like a cat for yearly check-up at vet. But Aoi's eyes were too dim to see or recognise it. Or at least that was what Ruki thought could be the reason. Or maybe Aoi knew, but chose to ignore the knowledge to not soil the arrangement they had. Aoi didn’t need any more conflict to deal with. Hence Ruki had desperately tried to bury those feelings again, with little to no success. Sometimes he would even ponder if there were someone else digging everything up again whenever he finished shovelling.

There was a fleeting moment of an absolute silence and stasis, where Aoi looked at Ruki’s now naked torso gingerly. His fingers run along Ruki’s skin agonisingly slowly, reaching towards the most sensitive part and touching there, resulting in him letting out a low moan and breathing faster. Leaning into the touch, Ruki bent over and kissed Aoi again, two-shaded hair hanging above the older man’s face as their tongues fought and twisted around one another. Two figures were slowly but surely becoming extensions of each other, skin rubbing against skin albeit Ruki was still careful not to hit the moist watermarks. One hand moved down between Aoi’s legs and under the layers of fabric, digits curling around the flesh as Aoi groaned in pleasure. With his remaining free hand Ruki started pulling down Aoi’s bottoms, sensing as the man opted for same with Ruki’s pants. They undressed in sync. Ruki was never naked before Aoi, making sure to not even unintentionally cause the man feeling as though he was being humiliated.

They kissed again, now both rid of whatever profane they owned.

Ruki’s hand reached for the nightstand next to bed, taking a tiny tube of lube out of the drawer and opening it. At times they switched places, but more often it was Ruki taking over the situation. Not that Ruki would be too proud to submit, not at all. The odd friends with benefits relationship he had with Aoi was quite even-handed and fifty-fifty, but usually Ruki was on top, by Aoi’s consent and request. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being on top, he did. But there weren’t roles in their relationship, there was no need for them. Humans were versatile beings more often than not after all. Yet there was a balance regardless, a balance Aoi needed into his volatile life behind the scenes. Ruki knew Uruha could be too proud at times.

Maybe whenever his lube coated fingers slid one by one within the man below him, Ruki was subconsciously trying to prove that there was someone making love and not only dominating Aoi. And maybe when his fingers were moved in and out drawing out moans from Aoi, Ruki was trying to tell him that he was there together with Aoi and not using him like the roots of the bindweed down his orbits. With all the touches laid on the older man, Ruki tried to spell out that Aoi wasn’t owned by anyone.

Nevertheless Aoi wasn’t free. Ruki knew the man couldn’t feel free, not when owned by the bindweed root constantly emphasising the matter and telling everyone. Yet Ruki was the flash of Aoi’s freedom, crammed into several hours before the sunrise. But when they woke up and Aoi left the apartment, every step took the man further away from the freedom in Ruki’s arms and closer to a captivity waiting for him few blocks ahead. Or that’s how Ruki bitterly thought about it at the back of his mind, pulling out his fingers and looking at Aoi who nodded quickly.

Whenever Ruki thrust into Aoi, gasping and losing the ability to breath properly, he knew that he wasn’t hurting the man. Because Ruki knew Aoi carried experience of the many sides of pain that existed and while feeling mild pain was normal for anyone when it came to matters of having sex, Aoi had faced the reverse side of it's beauty. There were bold lines between brutal and natural, but some people tended to just walk across them without thinking furthermore. Ruki had wondered several times, what on earth provoked people to even cross that line. And more he thought about it, more Ruki knew he could never do that, never hurt this man he was sleeping with for a second year in row. Not even when the pace got faster and harder and Ruki struggled to keep his eyes open, Aoi repeating his given name under breath. Even during moments like these Ruki would sometimes wonder, when everything had changed. When the initial love between two guitarists had lost it's grandeur, what had caused Uruha to cross that line beyond no return.

Aoi’s nails dug into Ruki's back and sheets as the man came undone between their heated bodies, groaning as Ruki kept on for moment longer, hands on Aoi’s shoulders clinging to them until his own release. They looked at each other, gathering the breath lost as Ruki stayed still for a moment before pulling out, heartbeats evening in tandem.

Collapsing next to Aoi, Ruki kept his eyes closed, listening to the white noise of his blood rushing before opening them again to watch the man beside him. He reached his hand to touch the cheek of the worn human, saying nothing. They kept silently looking at each other and Ruki felt how his chest burned under the uncertain gaze of dim eyes. Ruki was quite sure he could be set ablaze any minute before Aoi's stare. And when Aoi turned around like he always did, Ruki looked at the watermarked back as usual and felt like he was being smothered by the burning feeling crushing against the walls of his chest. He was about to explode.

After a while Aoi moved a bit, snuggling closer to Ruki who gently wrapped his arms around the shivering body, face buried in the man’s neck. Neither of them said anything for the time being and Ruki concentrated on breathing in the scent of Aoi, holding the man tightly.

“I want you to leave him...” Ruki finally whispered, fingertips tenderly brushing the skin below them. He hoped for any kind of answer, but Aoi said nothing nor reacted in any way.  
“I want you to leave Takashima,” Ruki repeated now a bit louder and this time Aoi had surely heard it. The man winced and snuggled even closer in response. Next Ruki could feel how their fingers settled between each other and Aoi squeezed his hand tight.  
“I wish I could, but he's beyond reason,” Aoi’s voice was heartbreakingly feeble. Ruki sighed, placing feather-like kisses on the man’s shoulder before just leaning his forehead against the skin.  
“You can fight him. Besides, he needs help. We both know this is not the kind of person he actually is.”  
“I don’t want to lose the band.”  
“We'll manage it. It's not the end of the Gazette. Takashima needs help and I don’t wanna see you unconscious in a damn hospital. God dammit you’re getting yourself killed this way, it’s been way too long, it's not getting any better, you need to recover, he needs rehab...You know it's not just my take on things.” Ruki spoke up for the first time, feeling how Aoi’s hands suddenly stopped shaking.  
“Just stay.” Ruki - for once - requested quietly. And maybe those two words were enough in that moment. Without word Aoi pressed himself even more tightly against Ruki’s chest. So tightly it felt like their warmth became one and Aoi’s watermarks melted into Ruki’s skin like Aoi was part of Ruki and Ruki part of Aoi. Sheets twisted around bodies, a blanket covering half of them as the prolonged night danced around two men. Ruki watched the broken man fall asleep, fingertips drawing imperceptible figures and lines between the watermarks until he was taken by restless slumber himself.

_I will fight for you, if you would just let me._

It was odd to wake up in the next morning. Get up and expect to see Aoi putting his coat on as per usual while starting to make coffee himself just to drink it cold later, but instead hear the coffee machine whirring and find Aoi sitting at the kitchen table, gazing down at the wooden surface. It was a different morning in many ways and though Ruki knew it would end sooner or later, because that was simply how mornings tended to be, fleeting, it felt like having a normal life. Living in the present and first time in months drinking his coffee when it was still hot, Aoi sharing that coffee with him instead of walking down the street, Ruki didn’t mind any of it. Smiling at the man he loved over the edge of his coffee mug and seeing how the bindweed slowly began to wither away, Ruki knew things would get better. For both him and Aoi. As well as Uruha and the rest of band. Because even the strongest roots could be eradicated. It would just take time.

**Author's Note:**

> My livejournal told me I was planning on sequel for this, but now I kind of want to write one...where Uruha gets the help he needs. Somehow I always end up making him some sort of villainous culprit regardless of what I write. Apologies Uruha, you deserve better. 
> 
> I know I abused past perfect here and there, but the situation called for it. Can't deny I grew sick of "had" already though.
> 
> Have you ever wondered how does it feel like rewriting smut five years later and after a pint of beer? Interesting experience, I can tell you that.


End file.
